


118

by orphan_account



Series: Live Wires [1]
Category: The Derp Crew (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Androids, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Hair Dyeing, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A scream for help often takes a strange form—hair color, for example—but that doesn't make it any less of a scream, just more colorful. Aphex gets to learn this with a little bit of unorthodox artistic expression.(Or alternatively, Aphex dyes, cries, and likes guys.)





	118

Aphex looked into the mirror and cried.

He was the same as the rest of them—dark hair Tom liked to run his fingers through and whisper how beautiful he thought Aphex, brown skin touched with little marks Tom liked to count.

118\. It was always 118. Every night that he had lay awake in Tom's embrace and painstakingly counted, the number had never changed. Aphex wondered if all the other ones had 118. He hoped they didn't.

Aphex clutched the box of hair dye as he set it down onto the side of the sink. It was pink—Tom had joked about pink once, telling him it was the color he thought Aphex looked best in. He had thought him lying then, as if Tom only told him what he wanted to hear.

He knew that wasn't true, but he continued to think it regardless. It hurt more, but he had grown accustomed to hurting for so long that it half-reminded him of home.

He thought of the other half and cried more.

What would Tom think? Aphex thought he might love it in some strange way, beaming as he always did when Aphex came over. He'd ask for a twirl, a little dance with him, a night in bed, all while teasing Aphex about his new hair.

But he'd like it. That's all Aphex needed—that and his own approval. For as much as he hated being the same as the others, he had grown so used to himself. It was hard to release all of the feelings that had welled up inside of him, but maybe he could just let go a little bit, let the tears do the talking and his hands do the work.

His hands fumbled anxiously at the packaging, trembling with each breath the android took. It was a big step to even go out and buy it with all the money he had saved up the last few months, but it meant nothing if he didn't use it. It was for him, all him, and yet he struggled to go through with it.

It was too late to go back when he pulled the coloring packet out.

Aphex knew it then. He was doing this; no more times of spotting himself—no, not himself, another Aphex, another person who wasn't him—out on the subway too, or at a bar, or anywhere. He was going to be someone new and different and altogether wonderful, and Tom, Tom would—

Tom would love it. Every inch of it. He would love his spots and his smile and his hair that Tom could never get enough of. Aphex took another deep breath and centered himself, steadying his hair as he applied the dye. His fingertips would be a strange shade of pink for a long while afterwards, but he couldn't muster up much care. Everything within Aphex was focused on the liquid he dabbed impatiently onto his synthetic locks, watching eagerly for a sign of new color, a new him.

It was all coming together perfectly now. His hair was messy, the pink uneven, but Aphex loved it. It was exactly what he wanted—something brave and new for this brave new world he had been born into. It smelled like courage, and he couldn't get enough of it. That was the one good thing about being an android— he could smell it for as long as he wanted.

Aphex looked once more into his cracked mirror, tearing up as he watched himself. Tom was right— he was beautiful—he was someone new and he had never loved himself more than that tender moment with himself. He turned the faucet, watching his tears wash away with the dye that he had spilled into the basin.

Aphex squeezed what was left of the dye packet, watching as a lone stream of pink ran down his hand slowly. It would stain, but that was okay. It was new. It was imperfect. It was Aphex.

He moved his other hand to poke the dye with his index finger, bringing a small dot of it up to his face. Slowly, as Aphex looked carefully into the mirror, he poked the manufactured skin next to his left eye, ready to give Tom something new to count.

119.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, what a blast to write this was! I'm glad that I was able to actually write something for this AU—it's been stuck in my head for a long while now. Hope you liked it!


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